Your Kind of Goodbye
by Atypicall
Summary: A short little ficlet that shows how one character has been affected by Daryl over time.


Title:

A/N: This was a tiny little ficlet that started bouncing around in my head while watching the Season 2 DVDs. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I own none of them.

"Daryl Dixon died the way he lived. Honestly, bravely, and unapologetically."

That's as far as I've gotten on your eulogy. But then, maybe that's enough. You died the way I always knew you would, saving someone else's neck. My neck, if we're going to get specific. From the teeth and nails of three walkers I let myself get cornered by in a bad place to get cornered. It was stupid, really stupid, but the truth of it was that I wasn't scared. Because I knew you'd come; you always came. Outnumbered, outgunned or out maneuvered, you always came.

But this time was different, not because you came for me, but because you didn't come back. And I'm pretty sure you knew it you son of a bitch. You knew it was gonna be a one way trip. You got me clear, before the door barricading out the others had given way, and they had poured like some fetid tidal wave down that narrow hallway. Two ways out. Through them, or through the tiny ass window a good sized cat would have had a hard time with. Well okay, maybe not that small, but too small for you, and too high for you to haul your ass up to, not after the accident that had given you a bum shoulder a couple years back.

So when you cupped your hands to make a stirrup for my foot to give me a boost I'd already started crying. Such a gut twisting pain in my chest looking at you that I can't even describe, but it was like being rent in two.

You had the gall to smile at me as I perched half in, half out of the window. I reached out of my hand to you, hoping you'd take it, and hoping by some miracle I'd be able to manage getting you up here. Then you, smiled, like an asshole, and handed me your bow. Your bow. Just about the only thing I'd ever seen you be sentimental over, aside from your bike. Your bow, the bow i had learned to shoot with. And that broke me, because it was as good as the kiss on the cheek and the goodbye I'd never get.

"Go on," you said, gesturing with your chin and a dismissive flick of your hand. "Get your ass in the clear, so I'm not doin' this shit for nothin'." Then you turned away from me, drew out your hunting knife and fought back, taking down more than I'd have thought possible before they overwhelmed you. They dragged you down still swinging the knife. The crossbow was already primed. I just had to load the arrow and take my shot. Quick. Clean. And it was finished.

Seven or eight feet to the ground, and given the way my legs refused to work when I hit, you'd have thought it was twenty. The others were already out there. They pulled me up and dragged me off back to camp. I don't remember much of it. No one asked me what happened later. They didn't need to. I had your bow, and I'm sure my face was as white as the bloodless knuckles of the hand that clutched it.

We've lost other people, you know? Herschel's gone. He has been for a while now, long enough that when I try to remember his face I'm not sure I've got it quite right. Merle. That one tore you up, shrinking back into your preferred state of isolation and barking anger. I'm so thankful you had Carol then. Maggie. Glenn never really recovered from that, and it made him hard. Which was okay, really, in the end, because when Rick had finally gone down, Glenn had stepped right in line to lead. Rick, God that was a hard one. I thought every one of us to the last might just disintegrate. But Glenn had stepped up to lead, and you buoyed us all.

I'm in your room now. The others are outside, waiting. Carl hasn't said much. He's become a man a lot like Rick had been. Thoughtful, but so quiet sometimes I just want to throttle him. But you know that. There was no grave to dig, obviously, but we built you a cairn, like the one you helped erect for Otis. It's better there's no headstone, because there are no words that do you justice.

Your vest is hanging up. The one with wings on the back. You haven't worn it in a while, so I hope you don't mind my taking it out. The leather is old, and so soft. Some of the stitching on the feathers is getting a little tattered, but Beth can help me fix that. It smells like you. I have so many memories of you wrapped up in this vest. Angel wings. Your wings. My savior, my protector. I am so, so, sorry. I was stupid, and careless, and it cost me you, and it cost you everything. I feel the knot wind up in the back of my throat and the tears threaten again. I love you Daryl. I have from day 1, even when you didn't want me to.

I take a deep breath and stand. I pull on your vest. It's too big, but that's okay. I think everyone will like seeing it. I'm hoping maybe wearing it will help me tear words out of my throat when I talk about you without losing it. I have your bow with me too, and sling that over my shoulder.

I take a deep breath. I remind myself of who I am, the person you helped build. The person you made strong by being there. The person you helped make a survivor. I wouldn't be here without you. So many of us wouldn't be here without you.

The year is 2028.

My name is Judith Grimes.

But you always just called me A.K.

-

The end. Please give me some feedback about what you thought.


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